Taber is very ill. I might as well be at Morningside Park. The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. She felt she must suffocate if these men did not put her down, and for a time they would not put her down. “Have to take your turn,” he remarked laconically. " Mrs. "Mur—der!" roared Wood, struggling to free himself from his assailant, by whom he was half strangled. Ruth's emotion was a primitive joy: she was essential in this man's life, and she would always be happy because he would always be needing her. Just an idea of mine. Pure romantic nonsense on her part.
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